


The Fathers Sin's

by Lorein_nur



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Everyone tries, F/M, Gen, Matt is a worried uncle, Peter's a girl, Tony is a good father figure, Wade before Deadpool events, life keeps happening
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-05 06:12:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 16,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11572029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorein_nur/pseuds/Lorein_nur
Summary: Trisha Parker was having a normal day at school until things go downhill thanks to unwanted fame, from there on out her already complicated life become more chaotic.





	1. Run

She'd been on her way to third period, the world renowned dreaded gym class. Really who's brilliant idea was it to schedule a P.E. course dead smack in the middle of a 7 class school day? Someone who didn’t care that’s who, that or they really were just unaware of how time-consuming the whole ordeal was, and sweaty; Oh so sweaty and sticky and just plain uncomfortable. And yes she may be a spider masquerading superhero in a spandex suit, _but_ , it was a Tony Stark high tech spandex suit specifically designed for her.  

 

Anyway, she’d been walking, Flash had been bitching, loudly at that, and every other teenager in the confined vicinity that was the hallway was putting their best effort into looking like zombies. She, well she was just calculating how to efficiently use her time in order to change from clean clothes too soon to be sweaty clothes and vise-versa when the first building quaking hit struck the school. Trisha naturally attached herself to the nearest locker to her left, Flash in all his golden boy glory fell on his ass and cursed loudly, he was accompanied by others who lost their balance as well, a select few managed to gather their bearings in time and held onto the adjacent lockers.

 

“What the hell was that?!” Flash asked, before another hit shook the school, this one followed by mechanical wiring and the sound of cheap floor tiles being cracked open by pressure alone. Trisha’s spider senses were by this point sending constant jolts of frazzled electricity both up her spine and downward. Her back became a hunched over display of tension, fists grasping too tight onto her chosen locker, causing the already abused metal to bend further.

 

The lights overhead flickered, the tile cracking and metal wiring continued, getting closer to the group of students by the second. The stench of panic and sweat was beginning to taint the otherwise recycled air. A pause, a prominent and imposing one, nothing more than a few seconds really, before the consecutive banging of doors and startled shouts filled the air.

 

A stampede of frightened students joined the already mismatched group, following behind them at their heels a pudgy raven haired man sporting orange lensed goggles and 4 robotic arms, the tips of each designed to look and work like retractable claws.

 

The man, the once renown Dr. Otto Octavius, moved his head from left to right, his eyes searching the cluttered hall, eyes focusing on every face until they landed on one. Trisha Parker stood, arms bent, back hunched face pale, eyes fierce, mouth a grim line. Octavius smiled. Cracked lips parting to show its unwilling hosts an array of large crooked teeth.

 

“Ah” Octavius exclaimed. “So you're Stark's newest pet project,” the imposing man said, approaching the teen plastered to the wall. “Tell me dear,” a mechanical arm was slowly lifted to the air, “ exactly how precious are you, to Tony Stark?” Every instinct within her being was screaming at her at her to fight, to move, to do _anything!_

 

_“Parker run!”_

 

In the end it was Flash-fucking-Thomson who made her move. His frightened blue eyes clashing with her weary hazel green. His large hand was like an iron shackle attached to her thin wrist, his arm the equivalent of the unyielding chain. He pulled, he pulled her out of harm's way and _ran._ Down the crowded hall, with the hundreds of students stampeding, the blare of the alarm screeching at them from seemingly every direction. An enraged roar penetrating the tension filled air. Trisha and Flash blended in amongst the other terrified students, a few took the time to throw her misplaced glances of interest, the same question dancing through their heads. What did Dr. Ock want with _her?_  

 

A montage of the same word kept playing on repeat within her mind, _run._ Just run. Her senses were to raw, the fear of a different question plaguing her thoughts. Did he know? Had he pieced together her true identity, or was this bold attack on her persona a different issue altogether? At the moment she did not know; oh but how she yearned to find out, and to fight. To just put the newly fashioned black with red suit Mr. Stark had designed, to feel empowered. But as circumstances would have it, and a well placed desire to continue masquerading as one Trisha Parker she denied herself. After all  Dr. Ock had not outed her out as Spider-Woman, so that surely meant he was unaware of her identity... right?

 

Flash lead her through the mess of bodies, the constant cracking of tiles not far behind. Her spidey senses warned her before it happened, so with a quick but discrete display of inhuman strength she ripped her arm from Flashes grasp and pushed him out of harm's way seconds before a robotic arm pierced the minimal space between them. She did not hesitate this time. Trisha Parker turned around, ducked under Dr. Otto Octavius and _ran_ , she ran like the devil himself was after her soul and headed toward the emergency exit located at the back of the library a few halls down. Metal clashing with metal could be heard, the tile cracking was unwavering as she misdirected the madman behind her.

 

 _“Parker!”_ Flash could be heard screaming as he was forcefully pushed out of the school. The entrance door to the library was mere feet away. Her mint colored converse pounded with every step she took, when the door was within reach she did not bother to use the handle to open it; she barreled right through. Dr. Ock was in close pursuit, his mechanical arms taking hold of the feeble door and ripping it off its rusted hinges. It’s final collision unknown. Trish ran, not taking a moment to glance behind her. Books and wood alike went flying through the tension riddled air.

 

The emergency door with the bright red colored words that read EXIT was within view, just a _few more steps!_

 

A wooden chair collided with her legs. She tripped.


	2. Hello From The Other Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to yesterdays reactions, and amazing feed back, seriously thank you! I got inspired so...tada! Hope it's as good as chapter one...or hopefully better?

Tony Stark had been in a business meeting when F.R.I.D.A.Y. alerted him via cell phone message. He’d by this point in his life learned that when his personal A.I.’s sent him news, specifically ones titled **_URGENT_ ** in bold red, you do not ignore them. So it was with growing dread and a chilling feeling settling deep within his bones that he quickly opened the message.

 

Three words. That’s all it took to destroy Tony Stark's already crumbling world.

 

Adoption papers leaked.

 

_“Damn it!”_

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

A chair, a _fricking chair_ was gonna be her downfall?!

.

.

.

Hell no.

 

Trish did four key actions in a very short time span. She rolled, untangling her legs from the chipped wood. She dodged, avoiding Dr. Ock’s mechanical arms and their desperate attempt at grabbing her. She stood up, taking the chair with her, and finally she _threw_ that mother fucker with all the strength she had. The poor piece of furniture collided with the mechanical arms, causing the man controlling them to divert his attention from grabbing _her_ to _it,_ in order to not get hit in the face. That bought her the precious seconds needed to push the emergency exit open and bale.

 

Her eyes were assaulted by the rays of the late morning/early afternoon sun. The fact that the sun could shine so blindingly _bright_ on such a chaotic day was beyond her. The screech a police car sirens could be heard coming from the main entrance of Linwood high school. Shouting could be heard accompanying it. Now under any other circumstance, that being the now improvable scenario of her _not_ having superpowers thanks to a radioactive spider, well, she would have run in that direction. Things being as they were and still feeling a commitment to keep the citizens of New York safe, despite being _outside_ of the suit well...she ran in the opposite direction.

 

Further destruction of private property could be heard occurring behind her, that is to say, four mechanical arms attached to a disgruntled adult had just crushed open an innocent door. Trish ran, with all her might, and if her stamina just happened to be better than a normal human, well...joke was on everyone else, thank you very much! The people mingling on the side walk threw her disbelieving glances, not that she took the time to notice, but if they  _did_ , which she was sure was a given fact...she could not, and would not blame them, because damn it this whole situation was fruitloop crazy.

 

A college student aged boy was staring behind her, the handles of a well loved bicycle in his loose grasp. Using a boost of energy she beelined it towards him, tore the bike from his grasp and mounted it. “Sorry!” she said paddling away and hightailing it to 69th street.  A choked out “Hey!” could be faintly heard behind her, lost in the sea of cracked gravel, and terrified screams.

 

Dr. Octavius was proving to be a _terribly relentless_ man. He did not stop, not once! In the maddening pursuit of one 16-year-old Trisha Parker. She paddled, he cracked ground, well more like his freaking huge metal arms did...talk about _lazy_ . This went onward for what felt like _hours_ . Her thighs and calves were on fire. Hell if she’d missed her pre scheduled gym class of tight rope climbing and teen based jeering and anxiety in order to have that replaced by _this._ She’d take the mocking like a champ! To hell with the bicycle, to hell with this, with all of this!

 

The further she paddled, the further she got away from the New York she knew. The street’s she rode down got shabbier, the pavement rougher. A street lamplight to her left lay broken, the metal skewered, the encasing glass split. The pavement cracking behind her,  a constant reminder that she was anything but safe.  She took a hard turn to the right; down a poorly lit alley with more litter than concrete working as the floor. To her right more uneven street, to her far left a building out in the open. A neon lit sign she took no notice of front and center, door wide open.

 

Her legs hurt, her heart was pumping blood thru her veins faster than it ever had before. She could go further no more.

 

She turned left, despite all common sense telling her _that’s a bad idea!_ She turned, rode her stole- I mean _borrowed_ bicycle the last few meters and charged in. The inner face that appeared to be of all thing, a bar, was poorly lit; and filthy. Trish quickly found herself surrounded by a room full of men that only made her already altered senses go further over the brink. A man with unruly shoulder length hair and dirty looking eyeglasses was the first to speak in the surprisingly hushed room.

  
“Hey! No kids or their tricycles allowed!” The loud voice in the silence was enough to startle her into action. She threw the bicycle over the bar, were the man was standing and followed it, thus successfully taking over what little space was left. “Hey, hey, hey! Woah, no! _Get out!”_ Trish turned, took the man's shoulders in her hands and whisper shouted “Hide me!” before crouching down and hiding under the counter. The man had just opened his mouth to scream at her again when the dreaded floor cracking invaded her ears once more. The man turned, now silent, and stared at the imposing figure of Dr. Octavius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...how was that?


	3. FML

If the room was hushed before when she made her entrance, Dr. Octavius's made it seem as lifeless as a morgue. The shaggy haired man behind the bar with her threw her a discreet glance, gray eyes hidden behind too big eyeglasses appraised her own wide hazel. A small nod was given before he turned his full attention to the six armed man.  “Hey! No damaging of private  property allowed!” Trish held her breath.  

 

Dr. Octavius turned around and faced him. “ My apologies,” he said, lowering his booted feet to the floor for the first time that day. He walked slowly towards the bar, mechanical arms suspended in the air. “Have any of you gentlemen by chance seen a young girl?” No one answered. Dr. Octavius hmm'd. “No? She’s hard to miss, green eyes, long brown hair, about this high.” The highest mechanical arm to his right drew the height.

 

A man to the far right of the bar snickers, drawing the Drs. attention towards him. “Can you believe this guy?” he asked the room as a whole. “He’s hunting down a fu-” A cell phone rang. The Chainsmokers _New York City_ began to play loudly throughout the room. Trish panicked, the blaring coming from her back jeans pocket no longer a favorite tune, now it was a sentencing march. Dr. Octavius turned, quick as a whip and propelled one mechanical arm forward, crushing the frayed wood counter she hid under. Claws took a hold of her back and pulled her out.

 

“There you are little mouse.” The loss of gravity was expected, the wind rushing to meet her part wasn’t. Her tiny body was thrown to the other side of the room. Her back hit a bottle cluttered table first, the momentum making her roll off and land on her side; hard. The following silence was punctuated by the man's booted feet walking a meter or two, only to have another claw take hold of her once again.

 

She was dangled, nothing more than a puppet in her master's hand. Her arms lay loose, free of the metals confines. She passed over another filthy looking table with bottles strewn about. She took hold of the largest one's neck, a finger or two of whiskey left inside. The bottle snatching went unnoticed. Dr. Octavius brought her pliant body close to his, a crooked smile beginning to adorn his face. Trish waited, she waited for the perfect moment to strike.

 

The claw brought her a little closer than arm's length. She took her swing. The bottle landed a solid hit within the Drs. face. Stained glass and poorly brewed alcohol bathing the Dr.

Sharp shards embedded themselves within the greasy skin.  She did not pause, Trish drew her right leg as far back as it could go and brought it forward. The sole of her shoe kicking hard at the Drs. throat. A choked gasp escaped the damaged man.

 

The claw around her back loosened, she went lax in its grip quickly slipping away thru the minor opening. She got out, before it clenched again, losing in the process her beloved mint tie dyed constellation shirt, leaving her in a black tank top. She landed hard on her feet, the momentum pushing her backward.

 

Dr. Octavius looked enraged. His face was an odd mixture of flushed red and garish blue. Both human hands clawing at his throat. Mechanical arms spasming wildly behind him. His head was bleeding, generously, as all head wounds seem to do.

 

His eyes locked onto her, Trish made an attempt to crawl away. He lifted his four robotic arms and shot them towards her. An ear splitting shot rang out. The robotic arms lay frozen in suspended animation mere inches away from her face. Dr. Octavius face contorted in pain before he collapsed, robotic arms and all.

 

Behind the messed up bar lay the skinny man with the too big glasses and shaggy hair. In his arms a shotgun. “No fighting allowed!” he bellowed in a whiny voice.

 

Trisha lay on the filthy ground with grime caked between the cracks. Elbows held her torso above it, her knees were bent. She lay panting. A shadow fell to her left, the body of a man followed it. He sat next to her and placed a large hand on the back of her shoulders. “Gotta say, that was one hell of a show baby girl!” He exclaimed, whilst patting her back with gusto. Trish licked her dried lips and croaked out. “Is he dead?” Hesitation tinting her tone.

 

The man at the bar moved forward, shotgun in hand. He kicked the nearest metal arms attached to the downed man. The Dr. did not move, but sparks did fly out from the control center piece attached to the mans back. “Of course he’s not dead.” He looked at Trish. “He owes me money for the damage.”  Trish swallowed and nodded. Her cell phone rang again; she reached for it and plucked it out of her back pocket. The screen was cracked. The caller ID read **King of the North**. This time she did answer.

 

"Hello?" she said into the receiver. " _Kid!_ " replied a frantic voice. " _Where are you? Why didn't you answer earlier? Is everything alright?_ "  She was rapidly bombarded. "Uh," she looked at the dirty blond man with the plaid wool jacket sitting next to her then turned her eyes back to the man with the shotgun. "Where am I exactly?" she whispered shouted at him for the second time. The man to her left snickered, the man with the shotgun let an exasperated sigh escape him, eye pointed heavenward. "You're at Sister Margaret's" he replied. Trish offered a tentative smile before replying with confidence. "I'm at Sister Margaret's!" The King of the North replied; " _What?!_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that concludes our three-day wild chase. XD


	4. Old faces in newer places

The car’s arrived exactly 30 minutes after the call. To say the least, Mr. Stark had been anything but amused, and sure even though the detail giving had been discreet, due to her large and unsavory audience, his tone and orders had been firm. Stay where she was, do not engage the other patrons of the bar, run if Dr. Ock woke up. Three simple requests really. One’s she somewhat managed to complete to a T.

 

I mean she hadn’t left the bar, not like she could really, not with all the attention she garnered after keeping pace with one of New York’s most insane villains. Apparently, that bought you some form of grudging respect. The second request was a bit harder to accomplish. The guy with the plaid jacket was talkative. Like really, really, _chatty_ . It was annoying. He kept rambling on about how _badass_ she’d been, and kept saying that he was officially her number one fan. Oh, and he kept insisting that she hand over her cell phone, cracked screen and all so they could be _What’s Up buddies!_ She’d prudently refused, claiming her battery was dead.  He’d dropped the subject and moved on to harassing the man she'd originally coerced into hiding her, Weasel he'd called him, into writing her name a top the green boards over the bar counter. Strangely enough after giving her an appraising look he'd relented saying, "Why the hell not." in a tired breath before picking up a piece of chalk and standing atop a stool.

 

So 30 minutes after the call ended, she was an honorary member of Sister Margaret's deadpool, the green chalkboard holding the name Babygirl in bold white for all to see.  Fortunately, Dr. Octavius was finally out for the count, the decommissioned robot-man hybrid monstrosity was out cold. So yes 30 minutes after the call police cars arrived and entered the bar. Happy was among them, he walked over to the ruined bar were Trish sat on one of the few remaining seats attached to it, Weasel was still manning the bar, and the annoying one, Wade was standing to her left, back facing the wall. She had an opened water bottle in hand, courtesy of Weasel, and was sharing a jumbo packet of Skittles with a now remarkably quiet Wade.

 

The cops did their appointed job and handcuffed/further disabled all of Dr. Octavius six arms. Weasel made a quick appearance next to them loudly reminding them that " That bastard owes me money for all the damage!" to which the cop in charge replied "He owes Brooklyn money." before handing out a card with a number to call and turning around before walking away. By that point, Happy was beside her. "Happy!" Trish said in a jovial voice, the stiff man in the too tight suit offered a tired grin. "Hey kid," he said, lifting a hand to card through the back of her hair. "Heard you had one hell of a morning." Trish nodded returning the tired grin. Happy moved his eyes over to Wade's  cognac colored ones for a brief moment before settling back on Trish's wild hair. "We gotta get you home," he said, he lowered his hand from her head to her shoulders.

 

A gentle hand attached to a man with all the intention to guide her out of the bar and back home. Trish turned around briefly and waved goodbye to Wade; Weasel handed her over the stolen bicycle in passing. "Don't leave your junk around." He muttered, before turning back to take hold of a red rag. "Come back soon Babygirl!" Wade shouted as Happy and Trish exited the bar.  

 

The sun was still shining brightly, and officers were still struggling with Dr. Octavius heavy body. Happy took the bicycle from her hands and passed it over to a walking cop, before leading her over to a discrete looking car. Nothing fancy, chipped silver paint, five passenger space capacity, an all around standard vehicle. Trish made an attempt to open the front passenger seat but Happy stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. He nodded toward the back seat, she rolled her eyes and grinned slightly but did as told.

 

Tony Stark lay seated within, looking an odd mixture of impatient, concerned, and mad. "Mr. Stark!" Trish said, quickly entering the vehicle and closing the door behind her. "Come here kid," Stark said, the sea of emotions placated for the moment, before throwing his arms around her.

 

"For the record, this isn't a hug." "Mhm, sure it isn't" Trish replied hiding her face in the man's shoulder.  "It's not," he insisted, voice gruff,  "I'm just getting the seatbelt for you."

 


	5. You are my Sunshine

Aunt May was waiting for them at the apartment. Anxious energy surrounded her.  The moment the door opened and Trish, followed by Tony Stark walked into the small living space, she was off the couch and taking the light mocha haired girl into her arms. "I was so worried," she said in a choked voice. Trish just like she had with Mr. Stark in the car hid her face in the crook of her aunt's shoulder, returning the embrace with force.

 

May looked at Tony, sadness lay within her eyes. Tony nodded placing a hand on Trish’s shoulders, lightly pulling her from her aunt's embrace. Trish looked at him questioningly, before turning her attention to May.

 

“We need to talk.” May said.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

"Local authorities confirm that the attack on Midtown was both planned and led by the once renown Dr. Otto Octavius, whose current alias is the feared Dr. Ock.  Witnesses of the attack have revealed that one student, in particular, was targeted during the assault."

 

Trish lay curled on her bed, her old well washed thrift store flower quilt tightly wrapped around her shoulders. Her old laptop was open, laying on the beat desk to her immediate left. An open window with youtube as the header was playing WHiH World News, where one of Tony's many one night stands, Christine Everheart had been narrating that morning's events. After the woman was done talking there was a cut to from her to a compilation of camera recordings and footage. Some videos were too blurry to properly distinguish her frazzled self-running away from the human octopus, but others managed to capture clear shots of her profile running away.  

 

She let the news drone on, other videos pre cued to play in a consecutive order, all detailing that morning's stellar outbreak. Her mind was far from concentrated, she felt sluggish, and not because she was in any way traumatized by Octavius behavior, hell she had dealt with him enough to know the man acted in bizarre ways, what had her feeling so detached, so vacant were the two curveballs thrown at her by the only two adults she could actually rely on in life.

 

For one she was legally no longer a Parker.

 

That had been a hard blow,  but the real kicker, the one that made her feel more drained, more hollowed that any other encounter with the monsters that roamed the streets of New York was the revelation that she had been willingly placed into the far from capable, at least emotionally speaking, hands of another, without her consent mind you, by the only family member she had left.  Two months. The words rang in her head. Terminal. Another deafening reminder. She curled further, pulling the quilt over her head, burying her face under her cotton stuffed pillow.

 

Her hands were clenched into tight fists, the knuckles brought up to her lips. Formally braced straightened teeth biting down on them, hard. A choked sob making its way up a clenching and unclenching throat. She had two months left, after that...she'd be gone for good.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Trish did not go to class the next day.

 

Part of the school had been assaulted but only the library had truly suffered the Drs. wrath. No, she lay curled in bed, a too big STAR WARS t-shirt with the slogan Pretty Fly For a Jedi stamped front and center. Aunt May lay next to her. Hugging her close, gently carding her fingers through her tousled hair. Neither spoke for a while, they just laid there, content to share each others breath in the quiet that the walls provided. "When were you planning on telling me?" the arm around her shoulders tightened, a kiss was laid on her forehead, but no vocal answer was given. "May...Is there really nothing we can do?"

 

"I'm sorry love, I wish there was, but time just doesn't seem to be on our side"  was the whispered reply.

 

They got up, eventually, only to relocate to the couch, a bowl of microwave heated take out in each ladies hands.  They changed from channel to channel religiously, finally settling on Pacific Rim. The house phone rang mid way thru, Aunt May was the one to stand up and answer. She spoke for a few minutes in hushed tones before hanging up and reclaiming her spot on the couch. Trish placed her picked at bowl of fried rice on the floor and bent over, taking claim over her aunt's lap. A hand attached itself to her head. They lay like that, waiting in silence for what, Trish did not know, until the ending credits rolled.

 

Outside the sun still shone brightly, uncaring of the darkness that now surrounded that Parkers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slower than what I previously wrote, but a necessary chapter.


	6. One after another

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late updates, life got in the way. I'll try to make it up to you guy's with a double update, for now, please enjoy the first half!

Aunt May woke her up at 7:00 am, the smell of cheap coffee and pancake mix followed her from the kitchen to Trish small room. The date on her cracked cell phone screen read Thursday. She got up, did her normal morning routine and sat at the round kitchen table with the mismatched chairs. May and a stack of pancakes waited for her. Trish ate in relative silence, only breaking the monotony to ask how the other was feeling. Pointless really considering the bags under May’s eyes was a telling sign.  

 

That’s when a long overdue epiphany hit her, May was not all right, she hadn’t really been alright for a long time.  The signs hadn’t been telling at first, and her mind had sub consciously misdirected them and passed them on as traits acquired from an aging body coupled with too much stress. It hadn’t. Uncle Ben’s passing had been a hard pill to swallow, but as horrible as it may sound, it was the staking expenses that came with his death that started doing May in. She’d had to go from one shift at Pete’s Grill to three, the transition occurring within a month. 

 

She’d also been left alone with the sole responsibility of raising her, and she’d done a wonderful job, honest she had; she’d some how managed to scrape enough change to clothe her, feed her, buy her school supplies,  _ keep a roof over her head _ . And how had she repaid her? By getting her sorry ass bit by a radioactive spider on a school trip, of all things, and deciding to put herself in danger's way. And sure she had May’s blessing, after the big reveal and all that, plus she helped and at times saved other people's lives but in the end what good did that do if the person she loved the most ended up being pushed aside, ignored, forgotten. 

 

And Tony, oh, don’t even get her started on Tony. He knew,  _ he knew _ and said nothing. He just kept up the charade alongside May and schemed fricken schemed behind her back! What the hell happened to that no secrets between us promise he insisted of after the whole Vulture fiasco happened. A bunch of shit; that’s what it was. 

 

And hell, it was Liz Allan and her ridiculous black overly studded heels tripping her over in the middle of the hall brought her back to the present.  The imbecile had been walking backward and turned just in time to stumble on her Bambi legs and take Trish down with her.  “Watch it,” the dyed blond sneered.

 

Trish was not in the mood to deal with pretentious and self-absorbed queen bees. “You and your overpriced shoes watch it,” Trish snapped back eyeing the girl thru the corner of her left eye, leisurely walking down the hall.  “Excuse me?” Liz said aghast, “Puny Parker did not just give me lip!”  this she said to the posse of morons surrounding her, among them an awkward looking Flash. “Come on Liz, it’s not worth it.” Flash mumbled a valiant attempt if any at peacefully dissuading the situation, too bad a cruel glint entered her eyes at those words, “You know what, you're absolutely right,” Liz practically sang, she turned her head and eyed Trish from head to toe. “She’s not worth anything” the bitch guffawed. 

 

A cutting remark was sitting at the tip of her tongue, begging to be let out. She didn't, no Trisha Parker had more class than that. So she turned and made an attempt to walk away. More jeering followed her, "What, not witty enough to say anything Parker?" 

Trish looked behind her, deadpan eyes looking directly at the ostentatious cow polluting the very air she breathed "No Liz, I just happen to have  class, and I assure you no money in the world can buy you that." The honestly pathetically childish taunts stopped, but she didn't she kept walking down the hall, head held high. 

 

The rest of the day went by blissfully uneventful, that is to say, no more random mad men in way too high tech suits trying to kill her or kidnap her or whatever, and no more word spats between cliche cheerleaders, no offense. The only out of character behavior being displayed by her fellow alumni were the stares and the whispers. The dreaded rumors that would come with them a building pressure crushing her chest. 

 

They knew, they knew Dr. Ock had targeted her specifically, he had done his research and found out where she would be at her most vulnerable, and that was the kicker wasn't it, you suddenly get a new surname and bam! You're worth a couple billion dollars in ransom and now everyone is going after you, the real you, the person behind the mask. And if that revelation wasn't bad enough the news media had been covering the story religiously...thru a different angle, this one demanding to know, where was Spider-Woman? Why hadn't she come to save the day? 

 

So yeah, today had so far been a compilation of hit after hit to both her personas and that just plain sucked, the highlight? She gave a snob lip, and class was almost over which meant, a certain 16-year-old was gonna suit up for the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, every new character presented is cannon.   
> Also feel free to kudo or comment! Ps, totally not mandatory, it's only if you want to. :)


	7. The way down we go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! My University classes started so I'm getting back in the rhythm of things, still, I'll do my best to post as many chapters per week as possible! 
> 
> For now please enjoy the overdue chapter 7!

Suiting up had been a mistake. I mean sure the first five minutes had been glorious, with the whole swinging from building to building like Tarzan had from vine to vine was absolutely liberating, and even though she was parading in skin tight spandex, to be fair it was very light skin tight spandex which in a weird way made her feel stronger than what she really was. But that happened every time she put the mask on, she went from Trisha Parker to-to Spider-Woman, and that name, her signal meant something to the people of New York, she meant something, and that was always humbling.

But that aside in this particular instance, yeah it had been a mistake, because five minutes after the suit was donned and she was swinging the crippling guilt settled in. She was doing it again, she was putting May last, and this time she didn’t have all the time in the world to enjoy her like she naively believed two days ago, she had a little less than two months, and then…she’d be gone.

So five minute after suiting up guilt settled in, after another 5 she got lost in thought, by minute 15 Spider-Woman landed on the nearest rooftop and sat down, energy suddenly drained from her being. She sat down on the edge of the building, let her legs dangle and removed both the hood and the mask from her suit, she was too high to be recognized by passerby's, so she let herself enjoy the view. New York was beautiful but too changing, always a new skyscraper being built from the ground up, or a new form of entertainment being born, or a scheme being thought off be it by an entrepreneur or a common crook. Either way, the city was forever changing, just like its people. Moving from side to side, little ant's on the street who never took a moment to just appreciate the world around them. 

She just like the rest had gotten too wrapped up in the movement, Spider-Woman had gotten strung up, jumping from one conflict to another. Maybe, maybe it was time to take a break, a heart wrenchingly small one. Trish closed her eyes the passing breeze pulling at the knots in her loose hair. The sound of car tires and honking a constant background noise, unending, unwavering. 

Down below on the streets, she for a moment ignored, two men were exiting a humble bagel store. One had dark tinted glasses and a walking stick, the other a paper bag with the shop's logo stamped on it. " I mean it, Matt, this has got to stop, a man can't live solely off of bagels! Look at me I'm getting my old chub back!" The other man, the one with the glasses, Matt, nodded, a small grin lighting his face. "Mhm, yeah Foggy I can see that clear as day." Bagel man grunted in displeasure, "Oh, shut it, Matt, you know what I meant." The argument continued in practiced ease, both lawyers enjoying the others company.

Three building down the road from the bagel shop another man was walking casually thru the glass doors of a jewelry store. Upon entering he was greeted kindly by the elderly gentleman manning the counter, " Evening sir, how may I help you?" The elderly man said in used up voice. The other, a dirty blonde with a tight fitting green striped shirt appraised the gems before him, concealed only by a thin sheen of glass. "I think I can help my self, thanks." The striped shirt man said in a heavy Brooklyn accent before raising both arms and letting them deform as thick strands of sand, shattering the thin glass and burying within the rough grains the precious stones. The alarm bells rang, electronically sending a beacon to the police, asking for help.

The elderly gentleman stared in shock, his thin frame shaking like a weak leaf in a too strong breeze. "P-Please, stop!" he said, but the other man did not listen, his limbs of sand took hold of all that shined within the store before retracting and turning solid once again. If one were to look closely they could see bits and pieces of the stones peeking out from the man's arms and chest, the clothing he wore a well-crafted illusion. He gave the frightened man a mocking bow and left the store. Alarm bells still ringing loudly.

Up on the highest building in that area, Trishas spider senses became alerted, the alarm that followed asserting her of the danger below. She stood, quickly placing her mask back on and raising the hood of the suit. Her break would have to wait. "Sorry aunt May." she told the wind before swinging down to face that day's criminal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really hope you guy's liked it! :)


	8. Shifting Sands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so first off, sorry for the long wait, I really wanted to finish this chapter and posted earlier, but my current class schedule is hectic, to say the least. Still, I'm gonna really make an effort to find the time to post chapters weekly, with that said, please enjoy the chapter!

"Hey there buddy! Seems like you made a bit of a mess back there, why don't you stay and help me clean it up?" The stripped shirt man turned at the voice, Spider-Woman waved from atop the car's roof she landed on, body still crouched. The man cocked his head to the side, recognition lighting his eyes. "Ey, you're that spider girl right?" his thick accent coated every word, Spider-Woman flipped from the car's roof and onto the concrete floor, slowly walking forward towards the thief. "Sure am bud! But I go by Spider Woman, not girl." The man looked her up and down a sleazy smile creeping up his face. "Oh, I can tell you're a woman." Trish balked to a halt and hunched her shoulders forward in an attempt to shield herself from further inspection. "Dude, that's just creepy." 

 

He chuckled, "What never been on the receiving end of a man's attention little Spider?" the man husked cocking his head to the side the sun's rays further illuminating his neck, Trish went tense, playful demeanor gone. Who the hell did this guy think he was? And-and was that a freaking diamond peeking out from his neck? The hell. "Ok, you've officially made me feel sexually harassed with words alone so I'm just gonna go ahead and wrap this up." Spider Woman let loose three web snares in consecutive order, all aimed at the man's upper chest. They exploded on impact, the compacted web spreading out and wrapping itself around the man. 

 

"Hey!" he exclaimed, startled for a moment, and a moment was all Spider Woman needed before she barreled into the man, right arm swung forward with barely contained strength. Her well-aimed fist hit him on the chest, a proud smile was spreading on her lips, second before it was replaced with a confused expression. "Wha-?" Trish dumbly said. Her fist had hit, but it went through the man's chest, coarse grains of sand wrapping and constantly shifting between her closed fingers.  "Didn't think it be that easy did you, sweetheart?"  The words were whispered huskily into her ear. She saw her webs cascade to the ground via shifting sand, if the mask were off, her wide eyes would have been left for the world to see.  Trish raised her head and looked at the man's eyes, a glimmer of glee present. 

 

The man shifted, his whole freaking body _shifted_ , what once was a chest was now a ridiculously thick grainy arm, and, oh hell it was holding onto her, _it was holding onto her!_  And there was pressure, shit, did he have to squeeze that hard? "Wow, bro, let go!" Trish started pulling, her left arm joined her right in the task, right foot planted on what used to be the man's body but was now an indistinguishable blob of golden sand.  The pressure continued, it felt like thousands of needles were piercing the skin. The sand around her hand was pulling her in, the once thick fingers now tendrils that sucked her into the unforgiving sand, she could see all the stolen jewels travel throughout the man's body, going up and down, one way and around. Some even joining the sand that was trying the crush her, and wasn't that just peachy? First a building, then claws and now sand, what the fuck. 

 

The sand monstrosity was still sucking her in, applying pressure where it suited him, he was doing it so fast. The sand reached both her elbows and if she didn't act fast her entire torso would be quick to follow. "Why so quiet all of a sudden  _darling_?" Words said with the intent to mock fell down on deaf ears.  Sand, the guy was made of it, his original form a facade, now there were several ways to get rid of the pesky sedimentary material, however, at the moment, two stood out in Trish's mind. One, the never failing option of dowsing the creep with water, the problem? The nearest water hydrant was across the street, and both her arms were out of commission, for all means and purposes she was grounded. A rookie mistake on her part, she had underestimated her opponent, and hadn't Tony stressed on the need to never do that? Oh well too late to fall back on that lesson now.

 

Option two, heat the sand. Any good scientist knew that sand plus heat equaled glass and that she could get out off. And Trish despite appearances was not Midtown's Decathlon leading lady, ahem,  _student_ , for nothing. "Karen, switch from web snares to taser webs, and give me the highest voltage you got."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope this made up for the wait. Thank you to everyone who's stuck around, and to those who are new.  
> As always every and any comment or kudo is greatly appreciated.
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


	9. Catch and release or vice-verse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here's this weeks chapter!

Three blocks from where Spider-Woman and  Sandy, as she'd mentally started calling him,  were having the mother of all tug of war's, Matt Murdock was being held back by one Foggy Nelson. "Foggy, knock it off!" Matt all but growled at the man who was clutching at his bicep, blunt nails digging into the fabric of his suit. _ "No!" _ came the stubborn reply. Foggy kept pulling, trying with all his might to steer Hell's Devil himself away from an unprecedented fight.  "She needs help!" "No, no she doesn't, I can see it clearly with my eyes, the Spider is fine!" The sound of static and pained grunts  rung deep within Matt's ears.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Why did she decide to be a hero again? Oh, right, the little people, Uncle Ben. "What the hell are you doing?!" What was she doing? Oh right, she was simulating the effects of a lightning bolt on sand...with her hands as the lightning...and no protection. Trish clenched her teeth, pained grunts got stuck in her throat. It hurt, it really, really hurt.  She could feel the sand around her hands start fusing, creating fulgurite. The process was agonizingly slow, the webs she was constantly shooting at the mass of sand holding her captive kept tangling themselves around her wrists and fingers. She could feel the red hot electricity burn through the high-tech spandex, and really how could it not, when she had Karen charging every web with a voltage up to 30,000 k, who knew the suit was capable of that huh?

 

So fake lighting or not the damage was still the same.  The fulgurite around her was brittle, so she easily pulled. Pulled and shot, pulled and shot, and finally tugged herself free. Thousands of tiny needles got themselves tangled in the suit's fabric, others unfortunately for her, embedding themselves in the exposed skin the burn marks left. A strangled cry followed her actions. "Fucking hell!"  

 

Fucking hell indeed, that little stunt she pulled released her, but it also brought with it severe damage, both to her and the multi-million dollars high-tech suit, shit Tony was gonna be pissed. The question was which one would infuriate him more, the suit or her busted hands...

 

A sharp sizzle followed her release, more static flew out of her web shooters, fuck, those were useless now too. Trish turned her attention to the shooters and ripped them off, burnt marks were left behind in their wake. Pretty patterns simulating tree roots.  An arm made of sand shot out towards her, she evaded it with grace, a dull throb was starting to go off in her head, her spider senses were on high alert. Right, dime a dozen criminal turned to shape shifting villain wanting to swat at her, focus Trish, focus.  Her shooters were gone and her hands were badly burnt and going through the process of stitching the damaged skin together, with glass needles inside.  Sandy was furious at her, and,  _ oh right _ ! Water hydrant across the street, time to go, go,  _ go! _

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two blocks from where Trish made a mad sprint for the water hydrant Matt was making one of his own towards Spider-Woman, Foggy at his heels. "Are you crazy?!" "No, just blind" A cocky grin was thrown over his suit clothed shoulder and directed at his heavily huffing friend. "Matt!" He dodged the oncoming startled civilians and pushed aside a scrawny teen with a flip phone in hand. Foggy was still in relentless pursuit of him, Matt could smell his sweat. 

 

One block from Spider-Woman and he heard the roar of pressured water being let loose from its confines. Police sirens made up the background noise. 

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

She'd made it just in the knick of time. She grasped the first clapper valve she saw and ripped it off, letting loose a torrent of water that was luckily directed at the giant arm of the giant Sandman. "Fuck!" Was that the only word he knew? 

NYPD had arrived, but the men and women stayed behind their open car doors, no one dared to step forward, not that she blamed them. 

 

"Flood the street!" Spider-Woman called out. "We need to flood the street and get me a safe perimeter,  no civilians near the water!"

 

"You got it Spidey!"

 

Time to get to work. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please stay tuned for more, and if you feel it deserved it please leave a kudo or comment!  
> :)


	10. Go Big Or Go Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise Up-date!  
> I have no idea how but I managed to find the time to write ch 10....

In the span of 7 minutes NYPD had managed to not only flood the street, but to safely evacuate any stragglers, how they managed to clog the water gates that lead to the sewage system was beyond her, but at the moment what mattered was to dodge, dodge, _dodge!_ And Taunt, taunt, _taunt!_ She’d become exceptionally good at both. “Stop moving!”

 

“Stop trying to drown me in sand!” Yeah, Spider-Woman and Sandy had gotten to know each other on a personal level, or as personal as a masked vigilante and a Sandman can. In other words, they’d gotten good at having the same conversation over and over again, with the only variation being the wording, and the words themselves.

 

The water reached her ankles and was soaking into the black fabric that made up the lower portion of her suit and red tipped boots. Sandy was losing mass, quickly, the bottom part of his body was getting spread around the blocked off street, and he was starting to panic. His hits became less focused, what they made up in strength they lacked in precision. It was time, you either go big or you go home. 

 

Spider-Woman dodge to the left then faked to the right. She jumped over a wildly swinging arm and performed an Olympic worthy double flip over an abandoned car, managing to land on its hood. From there she sprung again into action, this time heading towards the lighting cable post three meters away. She planted her right foot with precision on the wooden post and ran. She ran horizontally up the post, the shift in her central gravity core was surreal,  none the less she did not stop until she was at arm's length from the cables and electricity chamber. 

 

"Runnin away little Spider?" Sandy taunted, frustration clear in the rough lines of his face.

 

"Yeah, I am."

 

With that, she swung her leg above her head and kicked at the post just below the chamber diagonally. The hit provided a clean break, the angle made the top part of the post, chamber, and cables fall down, down, down onto the flooded street were Sandy awaited. Realization of what she had done filled his eyes, but by then it was too late. Adjoined cables from other posts snapped, most fell in the water. The reaction was instantaneous. 

 

The blue haze of electricity was reflected off the lenses of her mask, she stood in rapt attention as Sandy was quickly consumed by electricity once again. 

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

NYPD had reached him before he had reached her.

 

"Sir we need you to evacuate the premises"  The woman talking to him had a strong voice, it encouraged command, assertiveness, her heart, on the other hand, was beating rapidly. She was just as scared as the other civilians. Foggy had finally managed to catch up to him. He once again took hold of his shoulder and steered him away.

 

"Will do ma'am!" 

 

Matt dug his heels in the ground and turned around, he shot out his arm and took hold of the officer's elbow successfully startling her. 

 

"How's Spidey doing?" 

 

He felt a pat on his hand,  an effort on the officers part to be reassuring.

 

"She's fine Sir, heck it look's like she even has a plan!"

 

A loud splash followed by the sizzle of sparks flying punctuated her statement. That and the angry scream that followed.

 

\----------------------------------------------------

 

It took NYPD 5 minutes to unflood the street, curious civilians started arriving at the scene, and what a sight it was.  Spider-Woman had effectively managed to fuse together every grain of sand that made up Sand's body. Thus turning the man into a large fulgurite statue. She left the cleaning and damage control to the cops. 

 

Normally this would be the moment where she would swing away and leave in her wake a chorus of cheers, however with her shooters ruined and lost amongst the chaos that had been that street a few minutes ago...she was short on options. The only viable one...retrace back her steps, get to the building where she'd web'd up her backpack with her clothes in it and just be Trisha Parker again. The only problem with that is that it was a good 30-minute walk from her current location.  Oh well, time to start building hopping. 

 

\----------------------------------------------------------

 

He heard as she climbed the building where the jewelry store the man had been robbing was located. The store owner kept shouting his thanks. The nearly silent click of skin on phone screen was constantly popping on his radar.  She'd done it. He took a step forward and felt his shoe step on an odd metal surface. He knelt down and took hold of a metal bracelet. Foggy knelt to his side, an awed sigh left his lips.

 

"Isn't that ?"

 

A nod.

 

"It's Spidey's shooter," Matt muttered, turning his head to Foggy "Help me find the other one."

 

\------------------------------------------------

 

She arrived at the apartment complex a lot later than what she'd planned. Trish opened the door as discreetly as possible and made an effort to shrink into the adjoining wall with the wooden cupboard and silly knick knacks inside. May was waiting for her at the kitchen table, two sets of plates with what used to be steaming pasta completed the view. The tv was on, Christine Everheart from WHiH was on, recorded videos from her fight with Sandy were being aired. The news reporter kept referring to him as the Sandman, she liked her nickname better.

 

"So, are we going to talk about this?"

 

Trish walked over to the table and hung her backpack on the chair, mindful of her hands. 

 

"Which part?"

 

Aunt May stood up in the blink of an eye, her chair toppled over in a wooden crash. 

 

"Which part- _which part?!"_   She gasped

 

"How about the part where you were nearly drowned in quicksand, or the part where you _electrocuted yourself?_!"

 

Trish cringed back, conscious of keeping the table and chair between her and a worried May.  

 

"May," a deep baritone chastised, she knew that voice, turning to her right stood the one and only Tony Stark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a kudo or comment, if you liked the chapter!  
> Also, thank you to everyone who has supported this fic thus far, you guys are awesome!


	11. Licking Wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it, I finally got this one out!   
> Sorry for the long wait...

 

It could have gone better, it could have gone worse, it ended up being a mix of both. May...well she'd said her peace, Tony, on the other hand, had managed to surprise her, against all odds and expectations, he acted like the reasonable adult. He did not raise his voice, not that he had too, his presence alone was a hell of intimidating, especially to someone of her economic background, and wasn't that just sad? Uh. So yeah, the conversation had gone along these lines.

 

May was distraught at her choices and had forbidden her from ever, and she meant ever pulling a stunt like that again.

 

"What were you thinking?!" Had been loudly exclaimed, followed by, "Why do you go looking for trouble?!" Then she'd turned her ire to Tony and blown off at the man accusing him of not helping, "Why didn't you intervene?!" with a kicker combo of "You're supposed to be her mentor!" and the killing blow that lead to her collapsing on the floor in tears  "You're meant to protect her when I'm gone." 

 

That last one had Trish choking on a sob too. 

 

Tony for all his bad rep in the media of being a womanizing playboy, with empathy issues, had been a real gentleman. He'd taken all of May's accusations and had refused to make any excuses for himself or his lack of actions on the earlier situation, that being him really not coming over to assist his by all means legal daughter. No, he walked over from where he stood near the door and knelt by May, taking the distraught woman in his arm and let her cry.  Trish had shortly after joined in.

 

“I worry for you so much,” May said, her hands cradled Trish’s face, thumbs deftly swiping over damp cheeks. 

 

“I know,” Trish croaked  “I know.”

\-------

May had agreed on having Tony drive her over to one of his private medical facilities, apparently having fulgurite shards embedded in the inner tissue of your hands was bad.  She'd stayed behind, not wanting to be a witness of her niece's hands being surgically opened, Trish had not complained. 

 

Happy was waiting for them, a standard inconspicuous black car in too.  He opened the door for both of them, silly banter didn't follow. Happy looked anything but happy, and that was just an added weight to her growing guilt. First May, then Tony, know Happy, and to add insult to injury those were the three people she'd learned to rely on the most. Her only consolation was not getting a queue of phone calls from a hysterical Ned, not that she would with him gone for the week, hip hip hurray for impromptu family trips out of the continent. 

 

It was starting to get dark out by the time they reached the facility, Happy hadn't spoken a word, which spoke in itself. Tony had been trying and failing to sneak looks at her hands, she could feel his burning gaze on them every time. 

 

Foreign bodies removal. 

 

That's what Dr. Helen Cho, the woman in charge of patching her up had called the procedure. Honestly, Trish thought she would have been fine going to any hospital, and she would have too! If she had health insurance, which she didn't because neither May nor she could afford it, not until Tony anyway, not that she knew that because as of late no one told her anything related to medical matters. So, an hour later her hand were sliced open, the fulgurite needles removed, an anti-bacteria shot was administered, she had not liked that, her hand's were stitched up again and she had an appointment for the following day to get them removed because of healing factors and all that jazz.  Dr. Cho had raised an eyebrow at that request.

 

She'd sort of zoned out for most of it, minus the shot, she had been very aware of that happening, and after the pressing matter was dealt with well Dr. Cho's attention had gone elsewhere. Her initial reaction to seeing the tree root scarring that adorned her wrists was...odd? She'd been silent at first merely looking, slowly, leisurely dragging her pointer and index fingers over the designs.  Before abruptly stopping and turning questioning eyes to Tony,  never dropping her hands from the gentle hold they were in. Tony, he'd been, well like a statue, just standing close enough to check on what was being done to her, but not close enough to be burdensome, the white room she'd been coerced into had granted him the freedom to look all he wanted. 

 

"1 in 700,000 people gets struck by lightning in the U.S." The Dr. said crisply into the sterile air. "That can lead to death or in the best case scenario cardiac arrest." She lifted her hand, scars clear for all to see in the white light.

"We live in New York, a city, chances are even odder here" The woman had gone from caring professional to a scary interrogator in the bat of an eye. 

"You have some explaining to do Stark." Well fuck, did she now that statement applied to them both?

\---------

 

So by the end of the night, another person was in on her secret, well, both her secrets, she was still figuring out how she felt about that. 

 

"She won't tell" 

 

"Hmm?"

 

"Dr. Cho, she won't tell"

 

"Oh, that I'm Spider-Woman or...?"

 

"Both"

 

"...Ok"

 

Happy kept driving and acting like he wasn't there.  Trish kept turning in her seat, anxious energy pumping through her veins, Tony didn't look too good either, the man was the very definition of tense. 

 

"Sorry"

 

The world stopped, or more like nearly collided, because Happy nearly crashed into a car, his quick reflexes saving the day.

 

_ "Jesus, Happy watch it!" _

 

"Sorry, Tony!"

 

"Kid, you alright?"

 

No, no she was not alright, Tony Stark had just apologized, to her, Tony never, as in  _ ever  _ apologized; was this Ragnarök? 

 

"Kid, kid,  _ Trish! _ Come on snap out of it!"

 

She turned her wide eyed face at him.

 

"Oh Jesus, is this shock, is she going into shock?!"

 

"Did you just say  _ Sorry? _ !" 

 

"What?" 

 

Happy, there's something wrong with Tony!"

 

"I know!" A passing car honked in their direction, the lowered driver window allowed the red faced man to freely insult them.

 

"I'm sorry what?" Confused, Tony Stark was confused, and he apologized, _ again _ .

 

"He did it again! Happy there is something seriously wrong with him!"

 

"Wha- kid what are you talking about?"

 

"She's right Mr. Stark" Happy whisper cringed into the cars recycled air. Trish just nodded along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that wraps up ch. 11, I can't believe it's gotten this far.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone that has supported this fic, and continues to take the time to read.
> 
> As always kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, so feel free to participate in both!   
> Ps. Totally not mandatory, you may do as you wish, I just really like reading comments and seeing kudos.. :)


	12. New Frontier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late, but still here as promised!

Earlier that day, as in 7:05 early, Tony had taken the initiative to drive himself over to the beat down apartment complex Trish and May lived in, only to then make his merry way up the stairs, because the elevator was broken, again, and by all means broken and entered their apartment. May had nearly had a heart attack at the sight of Tony Stark sitting at their tiny dinner table with poorly brewed coffee in one of their less chipped off mugs. Trish and ran out of her room, awoken by her aunts startled scream, with all the intention to body tackle whoever or whatever was threatening them, only to stare at Tony in a sleep deprived, adrenaline rushed state for .5 seconds before running back inside her room and slamming the door, because God forbid she sleep in a threadbare Ironman tank top and discount underwear, minus the boxer shorts, in a girl only space.

 

The rest of the morning had been...awkward.

 

She’d adamantly refused to talk to Tony while sat at the tiny round table across from him, properly dressed this time of course. May hadn’t helped. She’d stayed behind the kitchen bar and quietly laughed, with little barely there wrinkles near her eyes crinkling when she smiled and forgotten warmth filling the brown of her irises. She was enjoying this, watching what would indelibly be a family. Tony tried talking to her, stuttering getting in the way of him forming a clear sentence, she for her part kept her eyes on the stack of pancakes she was vanishing, one clean forkful at a time, and if syrup and crumbs were getting all over her face, well, she'd just blame it on Tony.

 

"Sweety, stop that or you'll choke." An effort was given to slow down and actually chew before swallowing.

"Actually May, think we can get those to go? I don't want us getting stuck in traffic on the way to school." She choked.

\-------------------

 

"I can not believe this is happening, " Trish exclaimed to the other recipient of her shared space, head bowed into her hands.

 

Tony was in the driver seat, maneuvering the too flashy for her like cherry red  Audi r8 down the busy streets of Queens NY, Trish had been corralled to the passenger seat not 10 minutes ago, seatbelt and everything.

 

"What's so wrong about this happening?"

"You, driving me, to school, against my will!" She was losing it, hell she’d called it last night, Ragnarök was upon them.

“You’ll look cool”

"No, I won't!"

"Sure you will, besides don’t parent's drive their kids to school?"

"In primary!" Was he serious, was this supposed genius serious?

"Yesh kid, relax, I'm just trying to help you out here."

"Help me- help me how? This does not count as mentoring!"

"Sure it does, I'm helping you rescue your social life"

An indignant squawk left her throat once the words registered in her brain, why that smug little!

"My social life is fine thank you!"

"Really, is that why you get constantly bullied?" A note of seriousness was intertwined within the words.

 

"I don- I-" He was looking at her now, overpriced sunglasses moved to be perched atop his head, chocolate colored eyes zeroed in on her hazel green. The car was stopped two blokes from the school's entrance, how had time gone by so fast? And why couldn't she find it in herself to retort back, to claim his statement wrong? A fleeting memory of Liz calling her worthless passed her mind, she physically flinched. Tony sighed in exasperation and rubbed his hands over his face, only to drop them in the next instant.  

 

"Look, kid, you're my responsibility now, so just let me take care of you, ok?"

 

And that was that, it all came back to the legality of her, _their_ situation.

 

"Ok"

 

And, she was happy she agreed, because she had just now become the sole bare witness to one of Tony Stark's true smiles, not the  teeth baring ones he gave for the camera, all glamour and cocky airs, but a real one, closed lips, with a little bit of teeth peeking out at the corners and all warmth. She smiled back.

 

Tony started the car again and incorporated it to the usual buzz.

 

"So, is this gonna be our morning routine now?"

"Sure, anything to get the she harpy off you case.” A startled laugh escaped her throat.

“Low blow Tony,  even for you." She gasped between laughs.

 

And if a few heads turned at their arrival (every single one), and if exclamations of "Is that puny Parker, with _Tony Stark?_ " rained down on them, because in typical Tony fashion he'd insisted on getting out first to open the door for her. And if it ended with the most awkward of all awkward "This is not a hug, I'm just getting your backpack for you" hug's replaced by a hair ruffle and a hastily exclaimed "I'll pick you up at three" followed by the car door closing, wheels screeching and the smell of burning asphalt as he drove off well, so be it, because this was the new normal now, and all things considered, it was nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guy's enjoyed the chapter!  
> Feel free to comment or Kudo! :)


	13. Hard Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi...so I've been gone a while, I'm really sorry about that, it really wasn't my intention to pull a disappearing act without giving prior notice. Let's just say life caught up with me and took me for a ride, one full of finals and all-nighters. But! I'm back, and I don't plan on leaving anytime soon, I hope you guy enjoys this chapter, I promise there will be more soon!

Ned attempting to body tackle her into a hug the moment she crossed the school's front entrance was...unprecedented, him nearly facepalming into the floor...was not.

 

"You're alive!"

"Yes, yes I am," Trish deadpanned, fond smile making an attempt to break free from its poorly constructed confine.

"I was worried sick!"  Ned all but shouted to the hall, whilst throwing his arms around the startled teen.

"Jeez, Ned, super hearing remember!" Trish hissed into his ear, but none the less returned the hug.

"You nearly died, twice in one week!" Ned hissed back, now weary of the attention his earlier actions had brought upon the duo.

“I-” Trish hesitated to say, but the first warning bell of the day ringing above their heads stopped her, the hall where they stood became a mass of movement, shifting in a newly ingrained frenzy, Trish and Ned moved with it eye silently communicating what words could not, this conversation was far from over. Their body´s moved from one side to the other until finally, they separated into different paths in the simple labyrinth that was Midtown High.

\---------------------------

 

By 10:15 that Thursday morning Ned and Trish had congregated at the very back of the school's fiction section in the library, never mind that the emergency exit was still a mess and had been as of the time being been sectioned off; the duo had 15 minutes before their next period started, and time was ticking away. Trish sat on the old forest green two people sofa, legs pulled up and crossed one over the other, hand holding tight to her ankles. Ned was walking from one side to the other, taking precisely four long steps before turning around and doing the same in the other direction. Large bookshelves hovered around them as walls, offering what little privacy could be found in an active school day.  

 

"So what you're trying to tell me is that Octy went after you, but not the meta you, just plain old you, _you_?" Ned said at last, cautious not to speak louder than what was truly necessary, and with Trish's hearing after the spider bite, he could have just as easily said the words under his breath. Trish nodded twice, lost in thought, before a frown marred her face, making her nose scrunch up and the freckles dotting it to pop out.

 

"What do you mean by plain old _you_?" She all but growled. Ned halted in his step and shrunk backward, nearly tripping over his feet in his haste. He rose up both his hands and was quick to say;

 

"Well you know, you." Ned eloquently elaborated, arm's thrust out and directed at her. Trish straightened her back and allowed her legs to drop on the carpeted floor. Her frown didn't lessen, but her eyes sharpened at what Ned had not so subtly implied. Was she really that worthless, even in her friend eyes?

 

"Oh come on Trish, don't look at me like that, think about it from someone else's point of view. Don't tell me it didn't cross your mind that others might find it odd that Dr. Octopus, broke into one of the thousands of public schools all over New York, looking for one student who as of three days ago few knew existed? And add to that, that he didn't out you ou-"

 

"He knew exactly who I was" She viciously whispered, cutting off Ned mid-rant.

 

"Wha-? I thought you said he didn't know!" Ned all but threw himself in front of Trish kneeling down on his stubby knees, old denim rubbing gently on the ratty green carpet, hands quick to clasp one of the girls own. Trish sighed, letting the frustration building up in her these past days out in that one slow breath. She couldn't stay mad at Ned, in his poorly worded way, he was right. The whole situation was messed up, and she knew it, hell she knew a lot more than she had said, so with resignation, her eye meat Ned's dead on and as calmly as humanly possible elaborated what had been eating her inside.

 

"He wasn't hunting me down because he knows who Spider-Woman is, which he doesn't," she was quick to add at seeing Ned's worried eyes. "and he wasn't hunting down Trisha Parker either." she grudgingly mumbled, eyes downcast but for a moment.

 

"Then who was he chasing after Trish?" Ned pleadingly asked. A pause of silence wrapped itself around them, before the truth was thrust upon another's shoulders.

 

"He was trying to get to Trisha Stark."

\-------------------------

 

The rest of the day went on in a haze. Ned was just as blank-faced as Trish was, stumbling around the halls of Midtown High on autopilot. By the time the final bell rang Ned seemed to have come to a full understanding of the situation at hand. Trish was gonna be alone again, and thou he admired Mr. Starks decision to step in, he just wasn't convinced that he would be the right person for the job, if the whole incident with Vulture hadn't already proven that. Regardless he knew that no matter what happened he would just have to be there for Trish, she was his best friend in the world after all.  

 

Both regrouped at the school's entrance, silently walking towards the metal doors. students busted around them in a hasty attempt to get out. They joined the unorganized flock of students and stepped out, the sun's rays blinding them after hours of led lights. Trish turned her body to face Ned, deftly descending the stairs with practiced ease. A small sad smile was just starting to grace her face when her spider senses went off.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank's so much for reading and putting up with me! Love you guy's! And a quick shout out to Melodies, this one's for you. :)


	14. Are We Human?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm back, and ready to write some more! I hope everyone had great Christmas vacations and a Happy New Year thus far! Sorry, I went MIA again, but this time I blame it on enjoying what free time I had. 
> 
> Moving on I would like to mention that this chapter deals with panic attacks, so reader discretion is advised.

 

From one second to another Trish was surrounded. A mass of faceless people enclosed her, and camera flashes blinded her. She felt for the first time since having Vulture collapse a building on top of her trapped. All the noise and the shouting was making her sensitive hearing go haywire. At on point or another, someone took hold of her arm, pulling at her as if she were no more than a rag doll. Microphones were being incessantly shoved at her face, and a mirage of questions and accusations listlessly thrown along, all in quick succession, one after another.  

 

Her breathing was becoming ragged, she could feel the panic starting to coil inside of her grow with every passing second. She was cornered. Pulled in every direction, passed around from one group of arms to another. At one point she swore she felt someone tug at her backpack, the movement and her sensory overload making her stumble on her feet, Trish fell gracelessly to the hard cement ground. More flashes followed her decent, and shouting, there was so much shouting.  She could barely hear herself panting, but she could feel how every breath that managed to escape her gaping mouth was a shuddering wreck upon her chest, constricting it further as the panic grew. This was wrong, whatever was happening to her, it was wrong and she knew it, and these people, these  _ reporters _ , they were crossing a line, their actions, they weren't professional. 

 

The onslaught of questions and flashes didn't cease, not for a beat, but added to the quivering mess were the howls of indignation and outrage. Those, Trish assumed, came from Ned, possibly other students, and school staff. A shadow descending upon her further blurred her vision. Arms wrapped themselves around her, holding her tight under the armpits and pulling her up, and off the ground. Out of instinct, Trish threw her own arms around a sturdy neck and shoulders, only to be dragged away from the buzzing mob. All the commotion was making her spider senses go berserk, she felt and probably looked like a disoriented little fawn, stumbling about on too long legs, with little to no direction, a deer literally caught in the headlights.  

 

The shouts and cameras followed her, but the arms never let go, one moving to take hold of her waist to offer better support. It was surreal, this whole experience, one moment she was making a valiant attempt at lightening the mood with Ned, the next she was being literally spirited away, and from what it felt like being exchanged from one pair of arms to another. The sound of a car door banging shut shocked her senses enough to anchor her back to reality, and what was going on around her. She took a deep breath with effort and let it out, mentally listing what had occurred.

 

  1. She had been attacked by the press, outside of school
  2. Her spider senses had been overstimulated, causing a panic attack
  3. Someone had pulled her out of the mess
  4. She was back in Tony's car, and Tony was getting ready to drive it



 

The last thought halted further digression on her part. Tony's car, she was inside, the bulletproofing acting as a secondary buffer from the madness that was still going on outside. People- _ the Press _ was throwing themselves with there stupid shiny cameras on top of the car, and they were trying to break through the solid body, in a letterman, her frayed mind supplied, that stood in rapt attendance in front of the passenger seat, her current seat.

 

"Shit, shit, shi- _ mother fuckers!" _ Tony loudly cursed, he was splitting his attention between the maniacs surrounding the car and Trish, the Universes chosen victim of the week. He kept shooting her concerns glances, his eyes had never looked so vulnerable or apologetic, Trish would come to think later on, after normality, or what passed for normal in her life was acquired once again.  For her part, she was doing her best to get her breathing under control, taking deep breaths and letting them out slowly, it helped to center her, and to make the fog clouding her vision dissipate, if only slightly.

 

The body blocking her view from the passenger window loudly bumping onto the door only helped in making her stutter and slightly choke. She looked up, startled, only to see the letterman clad back take hold of a way to enthusiastic cameraman's brown overcoat from the lapels, only to throw the man harshly to the side, making him tumble over other reporters that were being far too aggressive, and fall. Another man, one nicer dressed, with finely combed hair made an attempt to sidestep her self-appointed bodyguard, he got a right hook for his troubles. 

 

Trish was becoming dimly aware that Letterman, as her still muddled subconscious decided to refer to him, looked familiar. And if given another minute or two she would have figured it out, if it weren't for Tony deciding that was the moment to step on it. The car blazed on through New York's traffic and away from Midtown High, leaving in its wake a crazed frenzy of human bodies. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the chapter was worth the wait! 
> 
> Ps. All comments and kudos are treasured, but by no means mandatory, so feel free to join in, or not, totally up to you! See you next chapter! 
> 
> :D


	15. Sinking Ship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guy's I know I went MIA for a really long time again, sorry for that! But in my defense I've been super busy with finals, my last finals to be exact, yep you read that right, I'm about to graduate from University!!! Soooo, if all works according to plan, updates should be more frequent, ok, with that said...enjoy!

It would have been nice to believe that being within the confines of Tony Stark, aka _Iron Man’s_ car would have enabled the user with the gift of silence, but reality offered a different result. The constant hustle and bustle of New York's busy streets could still be heard resounding on the insides of the bullet-proofed car. Crazed honking followed the red vehicle and its recipients along it uneven journey through the black river that constituted as the city’s street.

 

Tony, as was promised just a few hours ago to become the norm, was sat at the wheel, palms curved in a death grip over the black leather, the tips of his calloused fingers whitened with the strain. A deep furrow was stuck in place between his brows, the creases of his eyes drawn taught with barely suppressed anger, just barely hidden behind his signature glasses. Trish’s subconscious lazily registered these facts, her mind grasping at straws in order to bring her back from the panic, to ground her in the here and now. Her chest rose with every deep yet roughened intake of breath, her hands were nothing more curled fists around the chafing belt between her breasts, twisting the material in the process.  Her strained panting miraculously becoming the central noise despite the best efforts of their current environment.

 

"W-what just happ'n?" The question came out wobbly, her tongue heavy within her mouth, a forced swallow pushed the excess saliva down her dry throat, a final shuddering coursing down her body. Tony inclined his head in her direction, purple lensed glasses partially obscuring his face, he swallowed just as thickly as she had, and uttered but two words.

 

"I'm sorry"

 

After that, the outside world seemed to have finally stilled.  

 

\---------------------------- ----------------------------

 

Trish could only recall being within the new Avengers Compound once, and that had been months ago, after the whole Vulture incident, when Tony had tested her for the final time. Back then it had felt empty, she'd hardly seen any personnel, just large white walls and endless corridors with too many windows for her liking, it'd been sunny outside, but somehow their openness only made her feel more exposed, the wound from Tony's at the time obvious apathy towards her and her plight still too raw. Now, the building spoke to her of madness.

 

More people than she'd have ever believed to occupy the building were rushing around the main foyer, going on and on in uncoordinated circles, their movement pattern undecipherable. Some held phones pressed tight to their ears and were giving short commands over other felow staff's shoulders, others sat aligned the longest wall, laptops, and Stark Pads in hand, Pepper could be found in the middle of the hurricane, blue eyes as fierce as a Caribbean storm, strawberry locks pulled up in a tasteful bun, and stilettos sharp and shined. If the woman had been born with a power or enhanced ability Tris always assumed that it would be that of lightning manipulation, because the air around her seemed to be cracking with just the barest of movements.

 

Tony had her by the shoulders, long arm slung over her left, right palm resting on the ball of her right. Her Ironman themed backpack was being casually dangled from his left hand, and though the posture he opted for feigned casualness, pure unfiltered testosterone was being released from his pores. People parted like the red sea the moment they caught a glance of him, however unlike she’d originally thought, their gazes did not linger on him, but rather on _her._ Did they all know? Their timid gazes indicated to the answer being yes, further unease began to coil within her, she didn't want this, hadn't asked for this, yet here she was, huddled into a side hug by her mentor turned, dare she think it?, _Father_. Being looked upon as trophy cattle by people she didn't know existed, people that did not know she existed until an hour ago, and that she would have preferred to keep that way, because damn it this was insane, if things weren't already bad enough with the current situation in regards to May; and with that name surging to the front of her mind Trish stopped.

 

May was no longer safe,

 

Her stiff posture went absolutely rigid, feet firmly planted on the annoyingly spotless ground, her unanticipated halt jolting Tony along for the split second ride, and more infuriating yet, the people at the compound seemed to have stopped with her, all those nameless faces holding their breath, waiting in poorly contained hysteria for her next move. She felt rather than saw Tony glare them into submission, the widening of the whites within their eyes, and what she assumed to be reassuring squeezes to her shoulder a clear giveaway. The only person unfazed by the who spectacle was Pepper, always calm and composed and beautiful Pepper, the sturdy captain of a sinking ship, and that's what it felt like, she was drowning in the cold reality that life decided she should live in, she was being torn apart limb by limb by the unforgiving tides, and was being constantly slapped to the face with bitter truths.

 

She hated it. She felt dazed.

  
At one point she must have found her footing, that or Tony had resorted to half dragging her over to the elevators, because she found herself in one, snuggly sandwiched between Tony and Pepper, both holding onto a part of her, Tony her shoulders, Pepper her freezing loosely bandaged right hand, her own left sporting her recently acquired wedding ring. And, it was whilst being mechanically levitated to an unknown floor, with FRIDAY playing classical music thru the speakers, and her gaze landing on Peppers hand holding her own, that a final slap courtesy of reality befell her, this was it, this was going to be her new family, _this was going to be her life._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! Thank you so much for staying with me and being patient, and if you're new, thank you for giving my story a shot! 
> 
> Also, Infinity War's killed me, but that's about all the fandom by this point...
> 
> Please feel free to kudo and comment! Not gonna lie, I adore reading what you think of my story, but as usual totally up to you! :)


	16. Regroup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So it's not the weekly chapter I sort of promised would come but...it's a new chapter!   
> So yay for that, and little spoiler, the next chapter is almost done!

Trish didn’t need to wait for WHiH World News morning show to report what had transpired not more than two hours ago, oh no, that Thursday’s celebrity scandal/drama was already being discussed,  _ live _ , by the lovely Christine Everheart, along with a fully uncensored lists of all the news reporters and they’re employers names who were at that very moment being rightfully sued for: Harassing a minor, trespassing private grounds (Midtown High), and divulging terribly sensitive information to the public which was not limited to;

 

Her full name,

Her recent adoption,

Her pre-adoption legal guardian's name and place of work,

Her home address,

 

All courtesy of one Anthony Edward Stark and his legal department. After FRIDAY had opened the elevator doors, Tony and Pepper had ushered her to their shared common room, well it was more like her and Tony’s but that was a minor detail. Trish had walked herself over to the half-moon shaped sofa that took over the back center of the room,  promptly sat herself on the plush material, taken hold of the TV’s remote control, turned the insanely wide flat screen on and flashed her way to the news report section. Clips of her mauling were being shown in pre-qued loop’s, seeing her frightened face laid bare for the world to observe in self-satisfying morbidity was hell of unnerving. And the knowledge that her face was probably plastered all over the internet did not help to calm her nerves. 

 

So, while she was having what must have been that week’s second to third internal panic attack, Tony and Pepper had worked their way into an unspoken routine. Both would answer constant phone calls from part of the legal department and throw hasty yet concerned glances at her and each other. They did not exit the room, they did not scream at the receivers whilst managing that minutes phone call, or curse when it ended, mindful of her still too raw spider-senses, and if a StarkPhone was not ringing, that person would take the few minutes of respite in between to sit down next to her. Pepper would use the time to run her fingers through her hair, gently combing away the knots, when it came down to Tony...Trish would be the one to take the initiative and place her head on his shoulder, his right arm would automatically curl itself over both of her shoulders, squeezing her tighter into his side. 

 

It was within one of these stolen moments that another video was shown, a newer one, poorly recorded via a cell phone's camera. It showed her being practically carried away from the throng of reporters, she perked up. Trish cocked her head the slightest bit and focused her attention on the TV, the image was shaking, badly, but it was within one stilted moment that she saw it, a self-deprecating laugh left her dry lips, the tip of her tongue peeking through the parted flesh to dampen it, “Parker luck strikes again” she said, before burying her face into Tony’s side with a groan.  

 

\---------

 

The news reports kept circling back to that day’s event, despite it being a good four hours since she’d been rescued by Tony, and that was a whole other topic the media was eating up and exploding all over the web with headlines as tacky as “Fatherly Instincts Kicking In!” or “Queen’s Lottery Child!”, or the trending favorite “Lost Stark Finally Found!”, regardless of all the attention her little spectacle had garnered, reality continued to tick tock away, and as such, four hours later May entered the building with Happy as her personal escort, security/clearance badge and all. 

 

"Sorry keeping you waiting boss," Happy huffed, "Mrs. Parker had a few errands to run." he finished, indicating to the heavily packed suitcase he was rolling behind him, May threw the portly bodyguard a teasingly self-satisfied smirk before letting her eyes settle on Trish. The upturned lip fell, a watery glaze shined in the brown of her eyes. "Oh, sweetheart" she crooned, walking over to the disgruntled teen and pulling her into a hug. 

 

Trish wouldn't say it, not for many months to come, but it was under the linoleum lights of the compound, that she finally saw the damage being wrought upon May's body.  The paleness in her once tan skin, the loss of shine and volume in her now mousey brown hair, and most of all the clear lines of just absolute exhaustion creeping up on the corner of her eyes, and on the top of her forehead. She was losing her, little by little every day, and now with all of this new drama she was being forced to swallow and deal with she had robbed May of their only sanctuary in the world, the little apartment on the broken down four-floor building Ben had bought for them in Queen. 

 

Times were changing, and for all her futuristic outlooks in life, she wasn't sure she was prepared to change with it, but as thing were...she had too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the chapter, and as always thank you for being a part of my work, feel free to comment or kudo, not gonna lie I love receiving both!
> 
> Also a quick shoutout to my awesome Beta, Batsy! Thank you for all your hard work! 
> 
> :D


	17. Feet On The Ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry for making you wait, but I was really busy! 
> 
> I'm officially a Uni graduate!! Yay!! 
> 
> Well, with that said and out of the way, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Trish and May stayed the night at the Compound, there was no need to discuss whether that was a given or not, all parties involved agreed that it was for the best. Come morning both May and Pepper had joined forces in the valiant attempt to convince Trish that it was best to stay away from school for at least the next week, she'd straight up refused. No one was going to bully her out of an education damn it, much less one she’d worked so hard to achieve, it was bad enough they’d been evicted from they’re apartment, all thanks to the lovely press people who’d fucking attacked her. Having Tony backing her up on her decision was a true show of camaraderie. When confronted by Pepper's incredulity on the matter he'd passionately said,

 

"It's the principle that matters."

 

And though deep down she knew that May couldn't-wouldn't understand, she was glad that Tony did, because those people had stepped in on her turf, her territory, and she wasn't about to let them see, let the whole of fucking New York see her as a weak pushover. So the next morning she rolled out of  the bed she shared the night before with May in one of the guestrooms scattered around the compound, got dressed in the clothes May had so thoughtfully brought over from their now lost apartment, and walked out of the Compound with her head held high, with Tony Stark no more than a step behind.

 

\-------------------------

The contrast between being driven to school by Tony from one day to another was astounding. Though the drive the previous day had held a note of resentment, on her part, it was quickly forgotten due to her mentor's earnestness to win his place in her life, it was, dare she think it...sweet. But, despite this palpable change in there dynamic, this newly found sync in they're chemistry, she'd be lying if she said there was not an ounce of apprehension in her being, yesterday's events had left her feeling coiled uptight, ready to spring and this time attack at any moment.

 

"Are you sure you want to go through with this," It was worded as a question, yet no indecisiveness tinted his words, Trish looked at the man with the freshly pressed suit and orange lensed glasses to her left from the corner of her eye.

 

"No"

 

Trish hesitated but a beat, a small frown slowly appearing between her brows.

 

“But, but if I don’t do this, i-if I don’t face them right now, then” she paused to thickly swallow, the tip of her tongue peeking out to wet her now dry lips, hands subtly spasming with every breath. Then all movement stopped, a new found resolve entered the hazel of her eyes, and her hunched posture straightened out, she took an audible deep and reassuring breath before turning to bodily face Tony. "If I don't face my fear's right now, like, like I did back when all that _bad_ _stuff_ happened in my life, if I don't, even attempt to take control of what's going on around me, and the way it's affecting me then, it's like I've already given up and let them win, I-I can't do that Mr. Stark, I won't let them do that to me."

 

Now, it could have been the surfacing glossiness in her eyes during her speech, or the lenses of Mr. Straks glasses catching stary rays of light, thus playing with her vision, but Trish could have sworn that the chocolate of Tony's eyes held a light all of their own, one that was all fuzzy and warm and held a vast amount of pride, the little-closed lip smile he graced her with but a blink later only  helped to further cement the idea into her mind. A huffed out chuckle left his lips.

 

“Ok, unplanned emotional confession time. I'll start off by saying that, I’m with you, I'm with you in the literal and emotional and hell even the spiritual sense for all I know,” Tony swallowed with difficulty, suddenly finding himself choked up, “ I know I wasn’t the best at the beginning, I know I fu- _messed up,_ but I'm trying, I've been trying so hard, and more so right now kid, to make it better,” a heavy silence filled the car, Trish puckered her lips, a rebuttal at the tip of her tongue, “you were pretty young when the whole Afghanistan shindig happened, but do you remember ever seeing footage of me stepping off that airplane after I was rescued?” Trish gave an uneasy nod, eyes solely focused on the man to her left,  “Rhodey had offered to help me off the plane,” Tony paused to swallow, knuckles briefly flexing on the leather wheel of the car before continuing, “but I didn’t allow it, not because I was feeling strong or much less _was_ , but because I needed to be strong, for _myself_ , and looking at you now, it's like seeing a younger version of myself, and it both thrills me and terrifies me.”

 

Trish all but gawked at her self-appointed mentor, nay, her _self-appointed father_ , and holy shit, that was a thought she still couldn’t get her head around and wouldn’t for some time to come. Tony glanced over at her, and curled his lips in self-satisfaction at his kid’s expression, a feeling of accomplishment settling deep within him, he felt like he’d finally done something right. The car gently turned the corner of 159th St. at Tony’s command, he parked it at the schools main entrance and killed the engine, he took of his glasses off and tucked them into the front pocket of his suit before fully turning to look at the remarkable 16 year old lady on the passenger seat of his car. Trish stared back in open wonder, and Tony for the life of him couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ stop the soft smile that just the site of her elated in him from spreading and causing those damn crow feet that he did not have from popping up.  

 

“Ready to go and face the world Spidey?” he teasingly asked, his reply was a bone-crushing hug.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and being willing to wait for me to write these chapters down!
> 
> Feel free to comment or kudo, I love both! :D


	18. Happy Reunions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> I'M BACK! Sorry it took so long to update...again, on the bright side I already started in the new chapter so yeah...Anyways, as always thank you for reading! Hope you enjoy!

She was used to being stared at in awe, she kind of had to get accustomed, what with her extracurricular activities being narrowed down to her attending Decathlon practice and masquerading as a lowkey vigilante. That, however, did not translate to her being comfortable with others eye's roaming her maskless figure. Tony had graciously offered her an out, he'd left the option at easy reach; she'd refused. The words spoken in the safe confines of the car were not voiced in a moment of bravado, nothing coming out of her mouth really was, no matter how poorly articulated the sentence was, the meaning behind it was real, solid.

 

And it was because her words held no falsehood, that she was able to find herself in the motion of walking with purpose the cobbled ground of Midtown High's entrance, taking each stair step at a time, controlled leisure in every footfall. Sweet, ever reliable Ned was already waiting for her atop the final staircase step, looking just the tiny bit less Godsmack than the rest of the students still milling around doing their best, and failing at subtly glancing at Tony Stark's profile, and now his publicly known heires.

 

“Y- _you came_ ”  the Star Wars loving fan stammered.

 

“Course I did”  Trish replied with miraculous ease, the tiniest of smiles quirking the corners of her lips.

 

“Come on,” she said before all but dragging Ned by the shoulders and through the school's main doors, “the longer we take out here, the longer their going to keep staring.” the last part she half whispered with a conspiratorial  tone painting the edges of her words, hazel eyes shifting from left to right. It took a beat for the words to register in his flustered brain, but once they did he was the one doing the dragging.

 

“Hurry Lady Stark, before the hedge-born block us off.” He all but shouted, calling with it the very attention of those he meant to evade, for Trish’s sake. It was with the ease at which Ned acted towards her, and the situation she found herself in, that only helped to cement the fact in her mind, that she was not alone, just like Tony had assured but a few minutes earlier in the car. Trish gave herself a stolen moment to turn around and wave to the pillar of a man goodbye, before allowing her fellow geeky anchor to guide her away from the entrances prying eyes.

.......

School so far had miraculously been going...fine. No death threats or kidnapping attempts had occurred on her behalf, and sure although people stared and whispered behind her back, all things considered, that had to be the most normal day of Trish’s trainwreck of a week, and it also would have stayed that way; if Midtown's reigning queen bee hadn't made it her personal mission to hunt her down and call her out on her sudden status change. Trish for her part had been underway of executing the religiously scheduled pitstop at her chipped off blue locker when she got pounced.

 

“So, would you prefer to be referred to as this month’s charity case or constantly reminded that you’re yet another playboy’s bastard?” Liz eloquently jeered, the right side corner of her lips quirking upwards at the end.  

 

The entirety of the students milling the hall froze at the crass words, Trish herself was left aghast by the nerve of this bitch, how dare she? Trish’s vision swam, it went from bare reality to rapidly seeping shades of red, hell even Flash, who had been in the motion of switching textbooks himself but a few doors down looked like he wanted to slap the girl for her insensitivity; Literally half the hall looked like they were ready to rip her a new one, and she would have, gladly, if another voice hadn’t broken the growing tension first.

 

“Bold words coming from the girl with a known criminal as a daddy,”

 

The smug shrew’s face morphed in the  blink of an eye, disdain coloring her features, an angered flush spreading up her exposed neck and cheeks. Out of the congregated crowd, Michelle sauntered over to Trish’s side, that week’s book lightly clutched within crossed arms, hair poorly tamed into a high bun, wild strands loose from the hair ties grip, and at a closer look one could distinguish the subtle movement of her jaw, teeth working their way through an over-chewed piece of gum. Absently Trish noted the taste of blueberry surge within her mouth, the combination of sweet and acid coating the back of her throat, the scent finding its way curling upward and throughout the recycled air.

  
Liz attempted to stutter her way through an incensed response, but found herself unable too; words for the first time in many months, were failing her and getting caught. Stand-by students looked upon in unconcealed wonder, expectation  was thick in the air. Trish and MJ both stared in passive silence, an unchallengeable fierceness taking over the gleam in their eyes.   
  
"No smart ass retort to contradict cold facts?" Trish ventured to ask, cold, indifferent.   
  
Liz could not reply.   
  
It was the bell ringing above their heads what finally broke the girls from their standstill. As if waking up from a trance the rest of the curious stragglers jumped into motion once again, hurrying past the unshifting bodies and making their way to class. MJ was the first to react, wordlessly allowing herself to be swallowed back into the mass from where she came, Trish followed suit, walking forward and past the still frozen mocha skinned girl, she didn't even spare her a glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guy's!
> 
> Hope you liked the chapter! Feel free to comment or kudo! Not gonna lie I love reading your thoughts on what I write/post, its a boost, buuut its up to you. 
> 
> Ps. Shout out to my awesome Beta ScarletNightFury, you are amasing! Thank you for your hard work! :D

**Author's Note:**

> How's that for character introduction?


End file.
